Never Munch A Naked Baby.

I don’t want to come off like a massive weirdo, but……

MY BABY DAUGHTERS SKIN IS SO INCREDIBLY SOFT, I LIKE TO RUB HER ON MY FACE LIKE A FLESH COLOURED BLANKET!

Yeah! You heard me right…..

AND…..SOMETIMES….WHEN NOBODY IS WATCHING….. I BITE HER!

Of course, I don’t bite her with my teeth….that would be cruel….I do it with my lips….like this:

“Nom, nom, nom, nom…..”

I can’t help myself….she’s just so munchable….she’s like a life size jelly baby….with her ‘pork sausage‘ arms, and, her ‘ham hock‘ legs, and, her buttocks……oh my god, her buttocks…..

Try to imagine if Beyonce was crossed with a Tunnocks tea cake…..that’s what her bum is like…….

No, really!…..shut your face!….just go with me on this…..OK?

Try to imagine a delicious Tunnocks Tea Cake….full of ‘cloud-like‘ fluffy marshmallow…..well, her bum has the exact shape of a Tunnocks Tea Cake….and, it’s as soft as marshmellow……however, it also has the firmness of Beyonce’s ‘bootylicious‘ butt……

So…..this evening….after her bath….a dripping wet, and fully naked baby ran around the lounge….her giant buttocks proudly jutting out….just asking to be munched…..

I chased her around the room….she was giggling….I was giggling…..I picked her up for a munch…..and blew a massive raspberry on her tummy…..she laughed….I munched her chubby face…..I munched her porky arms….. I chewed her meaty thighs….and, then I headed for the bum…..

I turned Bridie around, and munched her bum….

“Nom, nom, nom, nom……”

Bridie let out a huge giggle……I kept chewing,

“Nom, nom, nom, nom……”

She was still giggling…..and then….just as I opened my mouth, to take another munch……she let rip a giant ‘baby fart‘ directly into my open mouth.

DIRECTLY INTO MY WIDE OPEN MOUTH!

At that point, I instantly stopped munching her…..

Bridie ran off, giggling and farting…..

I walked off, moaning, and looking for my chewing gum.

That’ll learn me!

Hostage Negotiation With A Baby

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you may remember that several months ago I wrote about accidentally cracking the screen on my daughters ‘Google Pad’.

Clumsy Fat Idiot Breaks Tablet PC And Daughter’s Heart

She was rightly furious at me…..and, I was devastated (not so much for upsetting my beloved daughter….I was more upset that I just wasted £200 on a tablet PC that we’d only had for 3 months!).

Anyway….in the end, we managed to make a claim on the household insurance….and, after paying £100 excess…..we got her a new pad.

The rules for ownership of the new pad were, 1. It must ALWAYS be kept in the protective padded cover, and 2. It must ALWAYS be kept out of the reach of the baby!

Of course, nobody actually follows these rules…..and, the pad remains totally unprotected, and, usually left plugged in, in places that it shouldn’t be.

In addition, our Bridie loves the Google pad…..she is fascinated by the moving images, and she adores it when we switch the web cam on, and she can see herself.

Anyway…..yesterday, Edie and I were in the kitchen eating our lunch, and Elle was eating her lunch in the living room, with Bridie balanced on her knee.

Elle put Bridie down on the floor, and nipped into the kitchen to get a drink.

As she entered the kitchen, I turned around to talk to Elle…..and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bridie waving the Google pad in the air.
The pad was on the footstool charging up…..it was still plugged in…..so, she was tugging at the power cable to release it from its tether!

“Oh my God….Bridie’s got the pad“, I said nervously.

And, this is when the ‘negotiations‘ started……..it was like trying to tell a cornered bank robber to ‘put the gun down‘, and ‘back away from the hostage‘.

My heart was palpitating……but, I think that may be due to the blood trying to force it’s way past my furred up arteries.

I slowly got up from my chair, and moved towards Bridie…..

But, as I moved towards her…she moved towards me….thus, pulling the power cable tighter, and tighter, and tighter.

I stopped in my tracks….she stopped in hers……it was a face off.

“Bridie…..put the pad down on the floor, bab”

I kept my vocal tone low and spoke at a consistent pace……I tried to pretend that I wasn’t anxious….but, I was.

She didn’t move…..

“Bridie…..can you put the pad down? Copy daddy……”

I acted out the sequence of actions…..showing her what I needed her to do.

Bridie just stood there…..staring at me…..with the Google pad raised high above her head…..she looked like she was going to smash it on the floor.

I made the decision to switch to offering positive comments in order to encourage her to place the pad on the floor.

“Good girl Bridie…..nice and soft…..gentle….ahhhhhh…..nice and soft”

Again, this failed to work…..Bridie just looked confused…..the power cable was now pulled so tight, that you could hear the ‘twang’ as the tension increased.

She looked at me…….I looked at her…….we weighed up our options.

And, then it happened…..she’d had enough….her patience had worn thin…..her itchy trigger finger had got the better of her…….the negotiations were over……..

SMASH!

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo“, I yelled.

Bridie had thrown the Google pad down onto the hard floor……

“Jeeeeeeeesus Christ“, I shouted.

Bridie looked pleased with herself….and toddled off to play with some shards of broken glass that we’d left out for her.

Fortunately, the pad wasn’t broken…..it HAD come apart slightly in the top corner….but, I soon snapped it back together.

“Which bloody idiot left the pad charging up on the footstool?”, I said, as I stared angrily at my family.

“You did!”, said Elle……”Yeah Dad, it was you…..“, said Edie.

*There was a short pause as I contemplated my witty reply.

“Yeah…..well…..you two are smelly tramps…..so there!”

I was given 38 minutes of ‘time out‘ for being inconsiderate and unnecessarily rude to my family….

Stewie & Brian Go For A Walk

I’ve just come in from an eventful walk with my very own ‘Stewie and Brian‘.

If you’re not a fan of the TV show ‘Family Guy‘, then, you won’t have a clue what I’m talking about…….if that is the case, I suggest that you tune back in tomorrow, when I’ll more than likely be talking about farts again!

Anyway, Family Guy is an animated comedy show from America (a bit like an X-rated Simpson’s), and it features a character called Stewie……who, is a possibly gay, homicidal baby who can communicate with the the family dog.
Brian, is the family’s alcoholic pooch….who desperately wants to be a writer….and has a hilarious….and, often violent love/hate relationship with Stewie.

They are the funniest characters in the show……

This evening, I took Bridie and Maisy out for quick walk, whilst Elle got the dinner ready.

Throughout the walk, our Bridie was pointing and waving at trees, cars and people….AND CLEARLY COMMUNICATING WITH THE DOG!!

Every time Bridie pointed at something, she looked directly at Maisy….and babbled some baby talk along with various gesticulations, which made it look like she was genuinely having a discussion with the dog.

I stopped for a few minutes in order to do my shoe lace up…….whilst Maisy sat directly in front of the pushchair and listened intently as Bridie explained her plans for world domination or something.

As I finished doing my shoelace up, Bridie came to the end of her babble……and…..I swear to God…..the dog talked back!

Maisy does this weird yelpy, growly, whingy sound when she gets excited (eg: she sees a squirrel, she sees a kite, or, she sees food fall on the floor)….and, she started off on a 30 second ‘response‘ to Bridie’s ‘babble‘ question.

I just stood there, aghast at what was happening before my very eyes…..an animal, and a human were communicating…..but what the hell were they saying to each other?

The minute that Maisy finished yelping, she lay on her side, and licked her arsehole for 20 seconds whilst Bridie sat in her pushchair, clapping…..

Christ knows what they were talking about…and, now….i’m not really sure I want to know!

Penises And Croissants

I awoke feeling fully refreshed this morning, as the baby had slept all night……hoo-fucking-ray!

As I lay awake in bed, gently easing myself into the morning, I contemplated whether I needed to do a very big fart…..or, whether I actually needed a poo……or, more alarmingly, whether a fart would lead to an instant poo.

It turned out, I just needed to fart……Elle said it sounded like, “a gaggle of geese“.

As she flapped the quilt to get rid of the fart, I happened to catch a glimpse of the ‘plaster ceiling rose’…..and, the design upon said ‘ceiling rose’.

If you don’t know what a ‘ceiling rose’ is, I’ll tell you……it’s a thick plaster disc that sits in the centre of your ceiling, and usually houses a light fitting.

They vary in size, shape and design……some design’s are more obscure than others……

Here is our ceiling rose design:

So…..here are the names we came up with for our bedroom ceiling rose design:

1. Penises and Croissants

2. Porn Moustaches, Corn Cobs and Superhero Masks

3. Marge Simpson’s Hair, Boomerangs and Handcuffs

4. Tied Shoelaces, Turds and Bananas

It passed a good 5 minutes, and made us both laugh so much, that we woke the baby up…….

Bollocks!

Are YOU able to see any other designs in our ceiling rose?

Answers on a postcard please to:

“Pilchard Rabies Ceiling Rose Competition“.

One lucky winner will win a lifetimes supply of penis flavoured croissants.

Love you……bye!

X

Five Month Blog Anniversary – Pilchard Rabies Review

And so….another month comes to an end.

For those of you that missed the odd blog entry….here is MAY in a nutshell:

It all started when Bridie silently shit herself in the bath, which I unexpectedly mistook for a Disney bath toy.
A person eating a Kit Kat posted their delight on Facebook, which annoyingly got more ‘likes‘ than my blog….which REALLY pissed me off.

We had a rare night off from the kids, but, we still couldn’t decide whether to watch a shitty film, stay in, or go dogging……(we stayed in!).
The next day, two burly looking men, delivered a fence panel to our house at ‘silly o’clock’, and then, I was forced to drop a £20 payment off to the owner whilst wearing my Captain America PJ’s and a pair of old Croc’s…..in broad fucking daylight!
Then….on Bank Holiday Sunday, I got severely drunk and lost an epic Fruit Ninja battle with my 8-year old before talking major bollocks to Elle.
I then woke up with a raging hangover and screamed with rage when I realised that i’d forgotten to put the bins out…..and the fucking recycling boxes too!

Edie made some pizzas at after school club…and, then touched them constantly, before dropping them on the floor of the car…..she then informed me that she’d ‘grated her thumb’, just as I took my first delicious mouthful.

I told a charity mugger to ‘fuck off’, and I made up some amusing names for imaginary rock bands (well, I thought they were amusing…..you might have thought they were shit?).
Then, the baby woke me up with a giant pissy nappy to the face, and then, I farted on the dog in order to teach her a lesson.

I took my kids swimming and almost died because I’m a HUGE FAT BASTARD….I broke my tagine, and then, Elle made some Pineapple Creams that were slightly on the ‘hard’ side (n.b. They could’ve knocked nails into concrete).
Then….Elle clipped my cheesy toenails as a sign of love and affection……my daughter thinks I look like Mick Jones from The Clash, and, I had to sit through the Les Miserables movie whilst Edie cried me a river…..

We watched the Eurovision Song Contest, and I wrote a blog that took me ages and, was immediately out-of-date before I’d even posted the fucker…..then, I took my best mate to his first ever football game, and, the lucky bastard witnessed a fucking 10 goal thriller!

Shitty, lazy marketing pissed me off…..as did stupid handshake techniques….and then, I killed a slug that had taken up residence in my work shoe before I explained the concept of ‘turds’ to Edie.

I told you all about the weird searches that people use on Google and then, accidentally find my blog (Eg: “Flaccid breasts, but exciting!”).
My parents got on my tits by complaining, A LOT, about the two tiny boxes i’d left in their massive empty garage…..I described my perfect chip-shop menu, and, had a rant about car boot sales, mobile phone signals and ‘pocket calls’.

Lastly, I’ve made a promise to Elle that i’ll tell her I love her more often….I clearly have a problem with large displays of crockery, and, the ceiling rose in my bedroom looks like it has penises and croissants on it!

Thanks for your attention……

I love you…..

Not YOU…..the one behind you….

Yeah, you….over there…..

Hi!

X

Hello Mr. Rabies, This Is Your 6am Wake Up Call.

I’ve had to do a fair bit of travelling with my various jobs over the years……

Travelling often means an overnight stay.

An overnight stay means a Premier Inn.

Or, a Holiday Inn Express.

Or, a Travelodge.

Or, an unspeakable shit hole in Bury with a shower in the room (I don’t mean a ‘shower room’…..I mean that the shower tray was plumbed in the corner of the room, next to the TV…..surrounded by a dank, mouldy carpet……classy!

However, there ARE some positives to staying away from home:

1. Blackout curtains are the best invention EVER!

2. You can freely masturbate without fear of your partner/kids/cat walking in on you.

3. There is often a free selection of delicious biscuits (Fruit Shrewsbury, Bourbon’s, Shortbread, etc……) and a limescale covered mini kettle that can be used to make a Pot Noodle at Midnight.

4. You can look forward to an all you can eat ‘Full English Breakfast’ from the self service buffet including bacon with fatty pustules, cold scrambled eggs, congealed beans, horrific coffee, sour orange juice and the sound of Sales Rep’s TALKING FAR TOO LOUD ON THEIR MOBILE PHONES…….but it’s OK……because it’s FREE!

5. You can get a free newspaper and an early morning wake-up call so that you don’t miss that all important meeting.

The early morning wake-up call in a chain hotel usually consists of either, a) a cheesed off Night Porter calling you before he clocks off his shift or, b) an automated phone message that sounds like you’re being woken up by Daft Punk.

To be fair, I usually set my own alarm on my mobile phone and hope I don’t oversleep……although I almost always do.

But…..this morning, at 5.45am, Elle and I had our own ‘special’ wake-up call.

5.45am:
The day began with the gentle, relaxing sound of a yelling baby.
I woke up and listened for a while until the crying subsided……like a baby-shaped snooze button on the world’s most irritating clock radio.

5.55am:
The snooze button went off again…..
“Wahhhhhhhhhhhh”
And, this time…..it didn’t stop.

Bollocks.

6.00am:
I entered the bedroom to be greeted by a smiling child…..I picked Bridie up and took her into our bedroom.
Elle was still half asleep…..so, I carefully positioned Bridie DIRECTLY ONTO HER HEAD.

6.05am:
After Elle had finished shouting at me, our Bridie based wake up call continued with a selection of the following:

1. A giant piss filled nappy wiggled directly into each of our faces.

2. My nipples poked, prodded and pinched with glee, followed by the sound of ‘ding dong’.

3. My chest and face slapped with increasing levels of speed and velocity.

4. Being peeped at from over the top of the quilt…..and, then being waved at for 3 minutes.

5. Climbing on our heads to get a good look through the window…..and then, trying to dive off the bed ‘head first’ in order to follow the cat.

6. Hugging both of us, and instantly leaving a giant string of mucus on our faces that left us all connected with a giant bogie style daisy chain……

It was an unbelievably relaxing way to gently ease myself into another fun filled working day.

Of course, even after being woken up at such an early hour, we still ended up running late……as usual!

Later on that morning, I asked Edie to get in the car ready for school as I grabbed my rucksack and got Bridie’s stuff for nursery.
I clipped Bridie into her car seat, and Edie sat down in the front.

I ran back into the house to pick up my jacket…..slammed the front door, and jumped into the drivers seat.

As I got into the drivers seat, a weird glistening line of goo caught my eye.
It was stuck on the dashboard……

Me:
“Is that mucus?”

Edie:
“Sorry, I sneezed”

Me:
“For God’s sake…..that’s minging. Wipe it off”

Edie:
“I haven’t got a tissue”

Me:
“Jeeeeeeeesus”

I jumped out of the car, unlocked the front door and grabbed some baby wipes.

I shut the door, and got back into the car……

I lent over, and wiped the green slime…..but, the thickness of the greenie mixed with the wetness of the baby wipe and just smeared it all over the dashboard…..

Me:
“Jeeeeeeeesus”

I jumped out if the car, unlocked the front door again, ran into the kitchen and grabbed some kitchen roll.

I shut the door, and got back into the car.

This time, I managed to wipe away the gloop……whilst heaving.

Edie looked sheepish…..I was stressed, grossed out, and furious…….Bridie just sat there clapping……

Thanks kids!

Tissues, Nipples & Lies

Every day, I learn more and more about being a parent…..

Being a dad (or a mom, for that matter) is a continuous journey of discovery…..because, to be totally honest….kids do some fucking weird things….and, you have to work out how to deal with situations you NEVER imagined you’d come up against.

For example, I never thought i’d EVER have to say the words, “Edie, can you please watch Bridie whilst I make the dinner….because, I’ve just found her eating a handful of plasterboard”.

And, I never imagined I’d have to consistently tell my daughter to “stop eating tissues”

Like I say…..kids are odd…..and, it’s a VERY steep learning curve.

Our Edie is going through a VERY weird stage at the moment…..yes, she’s cheeky…..yes, she rolls her eyes and stomps off when we ask her to do something ‘helpful’, but, by and large, she’s a really good girl…..

However…..

She appears to have turned into a compulsive liar over the last few weeks, which is both hilarious and frustrating all at the same time.

Example #1:

Me
“Edie, what’s that in your mouth?”

Edie:
“Nothing” (She has a mouthful of chewed up tissue, and is surrounded by pieces of torn up tissues)

Me:
“Are you eating tissues again?…..Edie, I told you about that earlier….it’s disgusting….throw it away”

Edie:
“I’M NOT EATING TISSUES”

Me
“Edie….I can see the tissues IN YOUR MOUTH….You’re surrounded by bits of tissue….I’ve just physically witnessed you eating tissues….with my actual eyes…..do you think i’m stupid?”

At this point, Edie jumps up…glares at me…stomps off into the kitchen…opens the bin and, dumps the chewed up glob of mucus ridden Kleenex in the bin……she says NOTHING to me for 10 minutes……like it’s my fault!

Example #2:

Me:
“Edie, can you please remember to flush the toilet properly when you go for a poo?”

Edie:
“I did flush the toilet”

Me:
“Edie….you haven’t flushed it love….I’m looking directly at your poo now….”

Edie:
“How do you know it’s my poo?”

Me:
“I broke it open, and it had your name written through the middle of it…..”

Edie:
“Did you?”

Me:
“Errrr…..NO!….You said you had sweetcorn for dinner…..and guess what…..it’s got sweetcorn in it”

Edie:
“It’s not mine”

At this point, I give in, and flush the turd away myself……

Example #3:

Me:
“Jesus, Edie….have you just farted?”

Edie:
“No”

Me:
“I just heard you…..it came out of your bum….”

Edie:
“I DIDN’T”

Me:
“Are you able to ‘throw your farts’…..are you a ‘fart ventriloquist?’…..I heard it…..AND, I can smell it…..to be fair, I can see it….it’s like a cloud of fart…..you need a poo…..go to the toilet!”

Edie:
“I don’t need a poo, daddy!!”

10 minutes later, Edie says, “I need a poo”……at this point, I shake my head and wonder where I went wrong.

I’ve asked other parents, and, by all accounts, this is a ‘normal’ stage of development….which is comforting to know.

Although, I have a horrible feeling it’ll get progressively worse before it gets better…….

So…..that’s my 8-year-old…..but, what about my one-year-old?

“But, Rich”, I hear you say……“A one-year-old can’t be weird…..she’s only one….plus….what’s all this about nipples?”

Well….

Our Bridie has developed a fascination for my ‘man breasts’.

Like all men, the first thing I do when I get home, is strip down to my underpants…..most evenings, i’ll sit down on the settee and have a nice cuddle with the baby.

She sits on my lap and studiously probes my nipples…..

She subsequently found out that the left nipple (Moob #1) makes a sound like a door bell when she pushes it…..”Ding Dong”.

She then examines the right nipple (Moob #2) and finds it hilarious that this one appears to blow a raspberry when she pushes it…..”Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp”

So, there she is…..staring at my tits, and pushing them with her tiny pokey finger……

“Ding dong”……”Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrp”…….”Ding dong”…..”Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp”……”Ding dong”

This goes on for approximately 15 minutes.

Then, when my guard is down…..her tiny little fingers form into a clamp…..she digs her sharp little nails into the soft doughy boob flesh, and won’t let go.

My eyes instantly fill with tears…..she only releases the droopy nork from her vice-like grip when I squeal like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

Through my tears…..I see her face…..she appears to be laughing…..

She IS laughing…..

She’s laughing at my pain…..

She’s only 1.

I’m fucked aren’t I?

Baby’s Cry Penetrates Skull Like A Sledgehammer Made Of Noise

Right………before I get started with my moan, I have to say that, a) I REALLY LOVE my children and, b) I would NEVER EVER hurt them.

However……

If Bridie continues to cry all the fucking time, like she is at the moment…..I WILL lock her in the cellar……

Seriously…..

Bridie is teething………which I’m sure is incredibly painful and uncomfortable……but for fucks sake…..could you stop crying for one cocking minute??

All over the Easter weekend the constant grating sound of her incessant moaning just wears you down……and this makes me want to drop kick her through an open window (Please note: I WOULD NEVER ACTUALLY DROP KICK HER THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW……).

Last night, at approx 2am she started with her ‘basic’ murmur which goes a bit like this:

“Uuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhh……….uuuuuuuugggghhhhhhh……..uuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhh”

Both Elle and I woke up……although, I pretended to be asleep so Elle would get up and tend to the baby (hey….I might be lazy, but at least i’m honest!).

We both listened to her gentle moans for about 5 minutes before I whispered, “shall we leave her for a bit to see if she goes back off?”
“Yeah….let’s see if she’ll settle herself back down”, Elle answered.

The murmuring subsided for a few minutes…….we thought she’d settled back down…….she hadn’t…..

“Uh ha ha ha…….heh heh heh heh haaaaaaaaaaa……..uh ha ha ha”

This is her ‘advanced’ cry, which sounds like a cross between a broken car, a cough and a laugh……and, it gets progressively louder and more intense.

It’s REALLY FUCKING IRRITATING…….especially at 2am.

I know you may be reading this thinking…..what terrible parents……why don’t they go in and settle the baby back down?

Well…..first of all….mind your own business……and second of all, it took us nearly a year to get her to sleep through the night…..so, we’ll do anything NOT to go into her room when she wakes up, because, as soon as she claps her eyes on you…..you’re fucked…..for the rest of the night!

So, there we are…..in bed…..with our fingers crossed…..hoping and praying that she’ll drop back off.

Eventually…….the cry that sounds like a cross between a broken car, a cough and a laugh turns into:

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh”

This is her ‘professional’ cry, and is usually interspersed with gaps of silence (breath holds), which then provides Bridie the additional vocal power of a ‘thrash metal’ singer.

Now we’re in REAL trouble.

This ‘angry cry’ is the one that sounds EXACTLY like a rusty bandsaw cutting through a knot of hard oak…….or a Black & Decker drill struggling to force it’s way into an engineering brick.

It’s a truly horrific noise…..and, it makes my brain rattle inside my skull.

At this point, it’s about 2.40am.
I’ve fully buried my head under the pillow, and Elle is stomping about in a mood, preparing herself for a couple of hours downstairs with the worlds angriest baby.

It’s a good job I love the baby so much…..because THAT cry makes me really, really, really dislike her…..but, only for about an hour…..or two…..

If you’re a parent, you’ll understand this level of frustration…….

If you’re not a parent, i’ll be expecting a call from Social Services tomorrow morning!